All throughout the summer that I was pregnant with Perry, I had a visceral craving to swim in wide brown waters. It wasn’t the ocean that my body felt bereft of, but the lakes and rivers that I grew up with. I craved that sweet, cold stillness, and the way that the surface layer in a lake – amber coloured and mottled with light – is warm, but down below that is a delicious chill. I never got to have that swim, having to make do with the tumbling salt of Kiama, which though lovely, was not quite the same thing. This weekend is the long weekend in Victoria, and so we will go to Rushworth, but we are also going to have a…